One Night
by Lady Artimes Blaine
Summary: After leaving early from his best friend's wedding, Sherlock has an unlikely encounter that may or may not change his life forever. The question is why is he so compelled to solve a mystery when his mind is screaming danger? Prequel I for Two Minds, One Heart


Lady A: Howdy everyone! I apologize for those waiting on Dancing Minds and Destiny of a Dream. Transitions are giving me some issues. Now this is a One Shot. My first ever one shot, in fact. It is one of two prequels for my new Sherlock fic 'Two Minds, One Heart'. This one is from Sherlock's POV and will take place around the end of Season Three Episode Two: The Sign of Three. Now on with the show!

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Prequel I: One Night

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The consultant detective, Sherlock Holmes, took to the stage. He unfolded the piece he had composed especially for this event and set it on the music stand. He picked up his violin and look towards his best friend and his newly made wife, John and Mary Watson. The army doctor nodded his approval and the blushing bride smiled softly.

He began to play, his hands moving with a practiced ease. A smile found its way onto his lips as they started to dance. The piece he was playing for them was not overly flamboyant or highly embellished. It was a simple yet elegant waltz. His eyes softened as he continued to play, and for the first time in his life, he felt truly accepted.

John was the man who had saved him from himself and Mary was the woman who had saved his friendship with John. He had been particularly ignorant of John's feelings when he had faked his death and not told John of his plan. In hindsight, he should have, but he knew nothing of human nature and he was eternally grateful to Mary for helping him fix what he had so idiotically broken.

He owed these two so much and he did not know how to thank them. A thought occurred to him as the notes flowed onwards to their inevitable conclusion. John and Mary were family and he must do whatever it takes to protect them. Perhaps that is how he could thank them. This was a day dedicated to vows after all. He finalized his decision as he came closer to the waltz's end.

A smirk appeared on his face briefly as his best friend dipped his wife and kissed her. He set aside his violin and took notice of Janine's blatant excitement. He was slightly taken aback by her obvious show of emotion, but that did not stop him from tossing her the white carnation he had been wearing.

He stepped up to the microphone to make one final statement before the festivities began. His mind was spinning with countless facts and deductions but he pushed them aside. Now was the time to reveal his decision to all those in attendance. He loathed making speeches but he was willing to sacrifice a little dignity for the sake of his friends. This was something that must be witnessed so that all would know that he was truly serious in his commitment.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, just…um…one last thing before the evening begins properly. Apologies for earlier, a crisis arose and was dealt with. More importantly, however, today we saw two people make vows. I've never made a vow in my life and after tonight, I never will again. So…here in front of you all, my first and last vow: Mary and John, whatever it takes, whatever happens…from now on, I swear I will always be there…always…for all three of you. Uh…I'm sorry, I mean…I mean two, two of you…both of you in fact. I just miscounted.

Anyways it's time for dancing. Play the music again please. Thank you. Okay everybody, just dance. Don't be shy. Dancing please." He stated stepping down off the stage and towards his friends, "Very good."

He walked over to his friends who seemed a little confused by his vow.

"Sorry that was one more deduction I was really expecting." He said.

"Deduction?" Mary asked.

"Increased appetite, change of taste perception, you were sick this morning. You assumed it was just wedding nerves. You got angry with me when I mentioned to you. All the signs are there." He answered trying to tell them what he had figured out.

"The signs?" Mary asked her mind starting to put the pieces together.

"The signs of three." He answered glancing down at her stomach for a moment before returning his gaze to them.

"What?" Mary asked shock written on her face.

"Mary, I think you should do a pregnancy test. Well I, uh…the statistics for the first trimester are…" He began immediately switching to his more analytical side.

"Shut up…just shut up." John interjected knowing exactly where it would lead.

"Sorry." Sherlock apologized quickly.

"How did he notice before me? I'm a bloody doctor." John commented stuck between irritation at his own ignorance and shock of becoming a father.

"It's your day off." Sherlock retorted quietly.

"Well it's your day off." John snapped.

"Stop panicking." The detective stated calmly.

"I'm not panicking!" John countered.

"I'm pregnant. I'm panicking." Mary interjected her face between panic and worry.

"Don't panic, none of you panic, absolutely no reason to panic." Sherlock stated trying to calm their frazzled nerves.

Honestly, these two would be complete emotional wrecks before the child in question would even be born. Thank goodness they had him to keep them from such an end.

"And you'd know, of course?" The army doctor asked sarcastically.

"Yes, I would. You are already the best parents in the world. Look at all the practice you've had." Sherlock answered barely keeping a straight face.

"What practice?" John asked.

"Well you're hardly going to need me around now that you got a real baby on the way." He answered completely diffusing the situation.

He smiled widely and John smiled back before grabbing Sherlock's neck with his right hand. The army doctor laughed quietly, his relief evident. John placed a hand on Mary's shoulder then his other on Sherlock's. After a few moments, the detective decided it was best to break the now awkward silence.

"Dance." He stated.

"Hm?" John asked.

"Both of you now go dance. We can't just stand here; people will wonder what we're talking about." Sherlock answered as John removed his hand from the detective's shoulder.

"Right." John replied.

"What about you?" Mary asked her voice thick with emotion.

"Well we can't all three dance. There are limits." John asked pulling Mary into his arms.

"Yes there are." Sherlock concurred.

"Come on, husband. Let's go." She replied conceding defeat to the two stubborn males.

"This isn't a waltz, is it?" John asked smiling slightly.

"No." She answered smiling despite her lingering apprehension of leaving the consultant detective on his own.

"Don't worry, Mary. I have been tutoring him." Sherlock said quietly as they began to move away.

"He did, ya know. Baker Street, behind closed curtains. Mrs. Hudson caught me one time. Don't know how those rumors started." John commented before turning his attention completely to his now smiling wife.

Sherlock looked at his friends, their faces still aglow with the knowledge of their future child. He looked around a bit, trying to find something to do with himself. His eyes finally landed on Janine and she smiled at him. He took a step towards her but stopped as she gave him a thumbs up and pointed to the man dancing with her. It was the man he had mentioned during his speech earlier and she was obviously taking him up on that suggestion.

He glanced around a bit more, seeing so many faces of so many people and yet there was nowhere he truly belonged. The earlier sense of acceptance had evaporated and now he just felt hollow. Upon realizing his predicament, he stepped back onto the stage and placed the musical composition in an envelope with the label _'Dr. and Mrs. Watson'_ on the front. He placed it on the music stand then made a quick and discreet exit.

He did not notice that the young coroner, Molly Hooper, had taken notice of his departure. Nor did he see the way her eyes turned sad for the briefest of moments. He changed from his wedding attire into his everyday clothing. Once outside, he donned his coat and buttoned it as he walked.

The emptiness began to fade as a very familiar emotion took its place. The emotion was loneliness, something he should have been used to. Before he had met John, he hadn't minded being alone and actually preferred it over the idiocy that is mankind. After forming such a deep bond of friendship with the army doctor and then later the woman his friend had chosen, he no longer wished to be alone, but alas he was and he was thoroughly irritated.

He exited the grounds and began walking down the sidewalk, trying to push away the displacement he was feeling. There wasn't another living soul with the exception a single occupant on a motorcycle heading his way. He gave no other thought to it until the motorcycle crossed lanes and stopped next to him. The detective stopped to analyze this little anomaly more closely.

The rider was wearing a crimson helmet and jacket, dark blue jeans, black boots and black fingerless gloves. The motorcycle was a deep crimson color. The rider then removed their helmet to reveal a young woman. He immediately saw her fascination for the crimson color for her hair was only a shade lighter than the jacket she was wearing. Oddly enough, it didn't clash.

What truly drew his attention was the color of her eyes. They were a deep royal blue and were a startling contrast to her hair and attire. This coloring of eyes was incredibly unique and was undoubtedly as rare as the lavender eyes of one Elizabeth Taylor. She smiled at him and he nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

"Quite the party, huh?" She asked tilting her head in the direction of the wedding reception.

The music could still be heard even from this distance. He glanced over at the reception before returning his attention to the young woman.

"Very." He answered simply.

He really didn't feel like talking and this woman was making him feel like he should be on the defensive. Something about this woman screamed danger, yet he could not find the logical evidence for such a deduction.

"If it's still going that strong then why are you out here?" She asked pointing at the reception then pointing to him then the ground between them.

"I left early." He answered.

He was looking her over thoroughly but for some reason he was not getting a clear mental image of her. He could do so with everyone else with the exception of _The Woman_.

"Why?" She asked her expression almost innocent.

"That's none of your concern." He answered coldly.

She didn't even flinch or bat an eye at his glacial tone, but instead she smiled again, a knowing look in her eyes.

"You felt like the odd man out. That's why you left early. You felt…displaced, like you didn't really belong." She replied softly.

His eyes widened a fraction. How could she possibly know that? No one has ever been able to read him. Mary could at times, but never some random stranger he just met.

"How about I give you a lift home?" She offered.

"You don't have a spare…" He started as she reached into the compartment on the back of her motorcycle and retrieved a black helmet.

"…helmet." He finished.

"Get on." She stated.

"Are you psychologically unstable?" He asked.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you say that?" Sher countered her lips twitching towards a smile.

"It is unwise and certainly not in the best interest of self preservation to allow a total stranger to be in such close proximity to your person, especially given that this is the dead of night. For all your knowledge, I could very well be a serial killer waiting for the opportune moment to strike and you wouldn't be able to stop me." He clarified.

She chuckled softly.

"So says the man who holds the self proclaimed title of consultant detective and whose job it is to stop said serial killers from completing such dastardly deeds; the famous, or should I say infamous, private detective and internet phenomenon, Sherlock Holmes." She retorted clearly amused.

The warning bells in the back of his mind told him to proceed with caution. He did not know if she was friend or foe and he didn't like not knowing.

"So you know who I am." He stated his eyes narrowing.

She giggled, her eyes dancing in amusement.

"I happen to quite like you site, The Science of Deduction. I was a little disappointed when you deleted the article about the two hundred and forty three different types of tobacco ash. I had only gotten up to one hundred and seventy four." She replied.

She actually reads his site? The warning bells dimmed a bit in light of this new information. His site would account for how she knew him and he was rather publicized a few years ago so it wasn't a difficult leap.

"I suppose you are a fan of John's blog as well." He stated rather than asked.

Everyone loved John's romanticized versions of their adventures.

"Sort of, but his posts never really got into how you solved the case. There was a lot of running and you went here then there. I got a bit bored to be honest." She replied truthfully, shrugging her shoulders in a nonchalant manner.

He smiled slightly. He was remarkably pleased that he had met someone who wanted to know more about the analysis rather than the 'adventure'. It was very refreshing to say the least.

"I still don't…" He began realizing he didn't know her name.

She obviously guessed what his next question would be and swiftly cut him off.

"Artimes Blaine." She interjected.

He frowned slightly. He didn't like being interrupted.

"Get on." She repeated holding up the black helmet.

"You don't know…" He started again.

Once again she cut him off.

"221B Baker Street." She answered.

"Stop doing that." He snapped extremely irritated.

"I will if you allow me to take you home." She compromised.

He honestly didn't see any harm in her proposal and it would save him the trouble of trying to get a taxi at this hour. Her royal blue eyes held no malice, no deception, and no ill intent of any kind. Her entire posture radiated a sense of understanding with traces of humor. He sighed inwardly, ignoring the barely discernable warning bells in the back of his mind, and accepted the helmet.

He straddled the bike as he put his helmet on. Once he was situated, she donned her own helmet. He wrapped his arms around her waist; her warmth seeped into him and erased the presence of his earlier loneliness. She revved the bike a moment before pulling away from the sidewalk. The pair traversed the dark streets and headed for Baker Street.

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The two arrived outside of Baker Street and Sherlock dismounted. She turned off the ignition and removed her helmet. The detective removed his own and made his way towards the door. He stopped when he realized it would be considered rude to not invite her in after she had gone through the trouble of bringing him home.

He growled inwardly at how ridiculous this situation was, but he had given John and Mary his word that he would attempt to be more cordial towards others. The things he does for his family. He glanced back at her and she simply smiled.

His eyes narrowed slightly when he realized that she was waiting for his next move. It was obvious from the look in her eyes that she did not expect him to do anything and that irked him. He was not known for his predictability and he certainly wasn't going to be predictable now.

"Are you going to stare at me all night or are you going to come inside?" He asked snidely.

John has commented to others about how speaking to Sherlock was like conversing in another language. There are subtle differences and nuances in the way the detective speaks that to a keen observer are blatantly obvious. It was this particular fact that led to John becoming such close friends with the consulting detective. He could speak 'Sherlocknese'. Sherlock inwardly rolled his eyes at the stupidity of that made up word.

The crimson haired woman, however, had not had the time to learn 'Sherlocknese' so he was certain she would take offense at his statement and seek to leave his presence as quickly as possible; thereby enabling him to keep his word to his friends and be rid of the red headed anomaly. Unfortunately, said red head was complete unfazed by his coldness.

"I would love to." She answered dismounting her motorcycle and pocketing her keys.

If God actually existed then he was one cruel bastard for not giving him the reprieve he needed. She quickly joined him and he pulled out the keys to his flat. He tried to unlock the door, but as fate would have it, it was stuck. He growled in annoyance. He completely stilled when her hand covered his. He looked over at her, his eyes locking onto hers instantly.

He felt his heartbeat accelerate as he gazed into those royal blue depths. Thanks to his time with John and Mary, he recognized some of the emotions that danced through her eyes; warmth, kindness, compassion and understanding, but there was something about this woman that put him on edge. She was making him _feel_ things that he should not be feeling and the warning bells in the back of his mind became as loud as sirens. This woman was far more than what she appeared to be and he needed to be careful.

By some miracle, he realized that the warmth where their hands were connected was somehow dimming his mental senses and those eyes of hers held him transfixed like a bird that was facing down a cobra. It wasn't until the warmth vanished that he was able to tear his eyes away from those royal blue depths that held the promise of mystery. In his mental numbness, he realized the door was now unlocked. He glanced back at her and he saw the curiosity in her eyes. He felt the blood rush to his face in an odd sense of embarrassment and quickly turned and entered the house.

She trailed behind him quietly until they entered his flat.

"Wow." She stated taking a closer look at his place while he flung his coat over his chair.

"What?" He asked as he removed his scarf.

She turned to him and smiled.

"This place is great. Totally getting the bachelor vibe from it." She answered.

Her accent was English, but her vocabulary was clearly American in origin. Either she had spent time abroad or was originally born in the States. She continued looking around until she spotted his violin.

"You play the violin?" She asked her tone clearly hopeful.

Did she enjoy classical music or did she play the violin herself? He needed more data.

"Yes. Do you play an instrument?" H asked curious.

Her face fell.

"Unfortunately, no. I was not given the gift of music; though my flat mate, Lily, says I have the voice of an angel and the soul of a dancer. To be frank, her views on my talents are extremely biased." She answered.

So she has a flat mate named Lily and judging from the contextual clues she was obviously the red head's best friend.

"Do you like dancing?" He asked.

He wasn't really sure why he asked that question considering it would probably not lead to anything relevant.

"Dance with me and find out." She challenged her eyes alight with mischief.

He was rather pleased by her answer and he had no qualms accepting her challenge. He walked over to the desk and pressed play on the CD player. Fortunately, he had left John and Mary's waltz in the player before the wedding and he found it slightly ironic that his friends had danced to it a few hours ago and now he was dancing to it himself.

He brought Artimes into his arms the moment the music began to play. He tried to ignore how well she fit against him and how warm and soft she felt. They waltzed around the room and he saw how her eyes lit up with happiness. She enjoyed dancing as much as he did.

"You created and played this yourself, didn't you?" She commented as she gazed up at him.

Instead of replying, he simply smiled at how perceptive the woman in his arms was. He heard the beginnings of the finale and beyond all reason; he decided to follow in his best friend's footsteps. As the song ended, he cradled her in his arms as he dipped her. Looking into her eyes, his lips met hers.

He fully expected to be slapped for such a bold action, but once again, she surprised him by returning the kiss. He brought them back to a standing position, his mind slightly out of balance and desperately searching for something to ground himself mentally.

"I'm…uh…" He started trying to find the words to bring him back to what he believed was sanity.

She touched his cheek gently, his eyes immediately focused on hers.

"One night." She stated.

His muddled mind had the idiocy to think 'one night for what'?

"No rules, no conditions, no strings attached; will you let me do that?" She asked.

His mind finally caught up to what she was suggesting; a one night stand. Was he capable of such a thing? Especially when the woman offering it to human held such an air of mystery that he simply could not refuse. Could he really give up that opportunity to unravel her secrets just for a single night of complete abandonment? He was at least going to try. He leaned down and kissed her again. When she sighed against his lips, he pulled back. His rational mind was trying to reassert itself with a vengeance.

"Just let go." She whispered.

She made it sound simple, but it seemed so complicated in his mind. He was always thinking, always analyzing, and constantly putting the pieces of thousands of puzzles together in his mind. How could he possibly let go?

"I don't know how." He answered truthfully, his eyes searching hers for the answer.

"Then let me be your guide." She replied claiming his mouth once again.

That night was unlike anything that Sherlock had ever experienced or imagined. Artimes showed him that it was okay to let go of his iron clad grip on logic and to simply live in the moment. Though there was a moment that startled him and that was when he gained the knowledge that she was a virgin.

In a moment of eagerness, he had been a bit too hasty and was more forceful than necessary when had first entered her. Her cry of pain and the tears she cried had sent him scrambling back to his old self, but she soon brought him back into the moment, her eyes filled with such forgiveness and warmth. They poured every bit of who they were into that night. He ravaged her throughout the night and she relished every ounce of him.

It was in the early morning hours just before dawn when he finally succumbed to his exhaustion. He awoke several hours later and found her missing. It had been like she had never existed. Well not quite, there was a single reminder that he had a feeling she left on purpose. Sitting on the table in front of the couch was the black motorcycle helmet he had worn on the journey home.

The consultant detective could only smile as he picked up the helmet and put it away in the closest of his bedroom. Soon after, his life returned to its normal rhythm of mystery and mayhem, but he never forgot the crimson haired woman that had turned his world upside down. The memories of that one night with Artimes were safely tucked away, deep within his mind palace and on days when his boredom grew to be too much, he would remember that one night and all was right in his world once again.

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Lady A: Be on the lookout for the second prequel called One Morning which will be from Artimes's POV. It will also be a one shot and will be up as soon as I get it finished. Leaves tons and tons of reviews and yes, I went and watched the Season 3 Episode 2 and wrote down all the dialogue just so I didn't have to do an abbreviated version. Laters!


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